


The only way

by Ghost_Writer



Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writer/pseuds/Ghost_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it is the only way Sherlock knows how</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only way

**Author's Note:**

> I normally Ship Plochte but gone over to the Johnlock side

It was dark in the little bedroom at the back of 221B. The only light in the room was from John's alarm clock. The greennumbers seemed to be mocking him, mocking him for thinking Sherlock loves him. Why else would he fuck him.

 

He shifst  to turn his back to them, he sighs. How did he let it get this far. He looks over at the sleeping figure beside him, his black curls pressed to his forhead with sweat.  Those curls who not so long ago where springing all over the place with every thrust Sherlock made.

 

He rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes, flashes of last night dance across the back of his eyelids.  He knows that he can"t stay asleep forever sooner or later he will have to face Sherlock.

 

For now he can keep on pretending everything is ok, in the light of the morning everything will go back to the way it was.  Sherlock will still be Sherlock. Not the Sherlock that held him close as he fucked him, not the Sherlock that let him fall a sleep on his chest. That Sherlock will be gone when the sun rises, only a distant memory.

 

Sherlock was never good at telling John what he wanted and  what he fellt. And John was fine with that, or so he told himself. It was better than nothing. If Sherlock could only love him in the dark then he would accept that. Knowing he was only surving the day so that he could feel alive with Sherlock at night.  

 

He had given up fighting the feelings. He accepted he was weak, accepted that he was settling for less than he deserved.  But he loved Sherlock and if that meant only surving then that is what he would do.

 

If this had been anybody else he would have told them to let the guy go, learn to love someone who will love him in the light of the sun.  

 

He feels himself be pulled back into the a state of sleep, fighting it with every once of strenght. Cause after the night comes the day, the day where he is cold and alone. Sleep is the quickest way to get to that point, so he tries to fight it but doesn"t succeed. He falls asleep, dreading the morning.

 

 

The bed is empty when he awakes the next morning, just like every morning. He has given up hoping that would ever change. He hears Sherlock in the kitchen.  Only 13 hours till sundown, till Sherlock will hold him close again. Till the play comes to an end.

 

The bedroom is filled with the smell of cooking, John knows that he has to do keep up the play him and Sherlock have been playing for the past two years.  

 

The table is laid to perfection and Sherlock is filling up a glass of juice when John takes his usuall place. No eyecontact just eating and the occasional  _could you hand me the butter._

 

Sad really, but he knows Sherlock and he knows Sherlock can't give him what he needs. He made that perfectly clear two years ago. He had given John the option to bail out.  He can't be angry at Sherlock for the play he plays so well.  The play he had seen so many times before, knowing Sherlock's line's better than Sherlock knows them.

 

 _Thank you Sherlock_ is the start of how the first part of the play always ends. Until the next encounter, until the next chapter of the day.  Today is no different than anyother.

 

 _John_ Sherlock says as John pushes back his chair to stand up

 

 _I just..._ John can see that Sherlock is trying but can't or won't,  John has given up trying to figure Sherlock out.  He knows the next line of the play,  _Nothing John sorry,_ too well. John counts down the usuall 5 seconds till those words leave Sherlocks lips.

 

1,2,3,4,5...

 

But instead Sherlock just looks up at John with a sad smile and squezes John's hand letting his tumb brush over his tumb. A new line to the play, a new line that has never been played before.

 

John knows withouth having to be told that Sherlock wants to say those words in the light of day but can't and this is the only way he knows how to show John what he feels. 

 

And so he keeps on playing, playing a part in a play that maybe one day will change.

 

 

 


End file.
